The Apocalypse
by SilverWolfSpirit5
Summary: Derek is transported to an alternative future, where Armageddon is upon them all; where more werewolves are now wandering the Earth, only they are slaughtering people during their frequent shifts. Other unusual activities are occurring over the residential areas, where Derek suddenly stumbles across a group of hunters camped nearby with their esteemed leader; Stiles...
1. 1 - In The Dark

The Apocalypse - Chapter 1 - In The Dark

* * *

Beacon Hills Preserve certainly had a sinister look and feel to it during the late hours of the evening. So inviting and strangely beautiful during the day; letting the light and shadows dance across one's skin, but as the light faded and slowly slipped into darkness, a whole new world appeared.

The trees stood utterly still like statues in a living museum where no leaf dared to fall. The full moon gleamed in the pitch black sky of the night and in the distance, owls hooted and screeched loudly; their sound waves bouncing off nearby solid objects, which sent chills trickling down Stiles' spine. The wind wailed between distorted trunks, carrying with it the sickly stench of rotting vegetation. The fog emerging and encircling him made him feel as if he suffered with cataracts. Every sound reverberated around him, making him turn swiftly and uncomfortably in his seat several times, paranoia setting in, forcing him to check around him over and over. The contorted trees made eerie shadows on the ground as he watched dancing silhouettes of slightly swaying branches from the relative sanctuary of the Jeep. Still he was unsettled, uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one side to another.

Stiles instantly regretted volunteering to stay in the Jeep. Isolation causes one's mind to wander, and he's already had several sleepless nights, so his insomnia was beginning to get visibly obvious, especially when Scott was in his presence. Of course, it wasn't just the lack of sleep that bothered Stiles; it was his anxiety issues, mild panic attacks and the overwhelming feeling that something bad was going to happen…soon.

Stiles stared blankly through his windscreen, cheek resting on his fist, oblivious that some kind of imprint would be left there overtime, as his eyelids suddenly felt incredibly heavy. However, Stiles restrained himself. It wasn't just his hyper-active personality that made it almost impossible for him to settle, he had suffered lack of sleep ever since he saw everyone he cared about under threat or worse, severely injured. Especially when Stiles knew he could have prevented it, he knew he could've saved them somehow.

Haunting memories clouded his mind all at once, such as when he witnessed Matt strike his father, all the time Stiles was still suffering from paralysis, crawling towards him with whatever strength he could muster, hand reaching out to him, even though he knew it wouldn't be taken. Another being when Lydia had fallen victim to Peter Hale – He had cried out to her, demanding her to run. But he arrived too late. Stiles remembered how nauseous he felt when the thought of her either dying, or turning invaded his skull. And then, there was Scott. Truth be told, Scott wouldn't have to deal with anything werewolf – related if Stiles hadn't have persuaded Scott to accompany him on his search for the mysterious body found deep in the woods. _Which had turned out to be Derek's sister; Laura Hale._ A small part of Stiles loathed himself for that. Curiosity had always got him into danger, and that night had confirmed it all.

Since then, Scott was his one priority, to insure he was safe at whatever cost. But of course, Scott had other priorities; the safety and security of – pretty much every citizen in Beacon Hills.

Stiles huffed in aggravation as he checked his wrist watch. _12:13am. _Already, he had been sat here, hopeless and hapless, arguing with himself and over analysing for just under 2 hours! Stiles began to get doubtful of Scott's intentions. Stiles didn't know what to think, really. He just had a foreboding feeling about the whole thing.

There was a sudden crash above him, snapping him out of his train of thoughts. Stiles instinctively froze; immobilised with fear, as continuous thuds occurred from the roof. Whatever it was, it sounded like it was advancing towards him, until it came to a halt, just above the windscreen. Heavy, ragged breaths invaded Stiles' ears as the creature inhaled and exhaled slowly. Stiles listened intently to the creature's movement.

_Oh my God, Oh my God._

"Oh My God!" Stiles whispered as the creature dived onto the front hood with a loud clash of the metal which reverberated around him. He instantly closed his eyes. He didn't know why particularly, it was just a reflex. But Stiles could feel eyes on him, as though they were staring straight into his soul, or maybe just observing their defenceless prey, shivering and whimpering at their mercy. Either way, Stiles' body betrayed him as his eyes slowly peeled open and instantly met the familiar shade of chocolaty brown eyes.

He suddenly had an urge to throw something at the windscreen.

"_Dammit_, Scott! Don't do that!" he cursed as he lunged forward to smack the windscreen in front of him, only to cringe as the pain rushed over his hand a few seconds later.

"Sorry…" Scott panted, trying to sound as sincere as possible, although Stiles didn't look particularly convinced. Scott knew he wasn't an idiot, he probably noticed the quirk of his lips. It had been years since they could play simple pranks on each other, the years where they wouldn't have to deal with not just the strain of school but combined with certain werewolf - related urgencies.

Stiles huffed loudly; steaming up the windscreen slightly, as he gestured to the passenger seat empty next to him, pointing with rigid and swift actions. "Get in here" he said sharply, waiting until Scott obeyed and climbed in before he continued. "So, did you find anything?"

"No, nothing. There's no sign of Derek – I mean, I didn't catch a scent or-"

"Wait, not even at his _house?_" Stiles interrupted severe confusion and disbelief evident in his tone.

"Stiles, I checked there like, three times already and I still got nothing. He rarely goes there anymore anyway, not since the County took it over, and his loft is completely cleared out"

Stiles' brow creased as he turned his attention to the sinister woods before them. So many thoughts were rattling around in his head that he felt the throbbing sensation; urgent, lingering questions that demanded answers, _needed_ answers. If there was one thing Stiles hated, it was being ignorant of certain things; and probably the constant feeling of hopelessness, when trying to find the reasons behind the mysterious killings that seemed to be happening more frequently in Beacon Hills. But, for once, Stiles wanted to have the information and essentials necessary for this situation, especially to his advantage; he somehow wanted that surge and foreign sense of power.

"What? His loft is - "

"Cleared out." Scott repeated.

"So, what? He's just…_disappeared_?" Stiles suddenly asked, not really expecting an answer.

"I don't know" Scott murmured, eyes flickering from one object to the next in front of him.

"_Great_. So, plan to recruit Derek's help backfired then? Which leaves us with…nope, pretty much the same, if not less, amount of information we have already."

Scott grimaced. He may not share a close brotherly bond with Derek, but that was no reason why he wasn't concerned about him. Though he's probably more concerned than he should be, since their relationship is past complicated. Scott and Stiles had already asked Isaac whether he'd found any traces of him, but clearly Derek was being evasive, since his own pack members had no idea where he'd gone. They tried calling him several times, which Stiles seemed to complain about, saying it was _'wasting credit that could potentially save a life.' _It finally dawned on them that maybe Derek didn't want to be found, _or_ someone that had _possibly_ captured him didn't want him to be found.

"So…you got a Plan B?" Stiles asked.

"…No" Scott murmured, avoiding eye contact, like trying to hide his shame. Although Stiles didn't know what Scott should be particularly ashamed about - it's not like it was his fault that Derek had apparently dropped everything and fled.

"Oh, good, we're progressing then."

"Do _you?_" Scott quipped.

Stiles paused, shooting a look at Scott of disbelief, hoping it would convince Scott that he wasn't completely blank for ideas. Although, seeming he had paused for too long, Scott rolled his eyes at him. "…Alright, I haven't either, but I – I don't know, I - say we just take it into our own hands for now. I mean the werewolves seem oblivious to what's really going on, and if they don't know, then this- this might actually be beyond them."

"But we can't do this alone, Stiles. We need an expert-" Scott protested.

"Yes, _thank you_, I _know_–"

"And Derek's-"

"Yeah, well, clearly we're not going to get his help on this one are we? Not when he's probably miles away from here already. I'm just saying that we do a little research and deal with this ourselves for now. Derek probably has his hands full; Boyd and Erica are still missing, you know. Why else would he just leave?"

"_No_, Stiles. We can't risk more innocent people getting hurt." Scott said sharply, making sure to address the urgency in his tone.

"Well then… what do _you _want to do?" Stiles sighed.

"I'll keep a look out for Derek, while we investigate this –"

"Yeah, usually when you say _we_, you mean _me_." Stiles turned his attention completely to Scott, cocking his eyebrow.

"…Maybe your dad's come across this before, and there could've been incidents like these across the years too. Come on, you're the smart one-"

"Oh, well- I mean- hang on! I know what you're doing here. Compliments won't get you-" Stiles began to protest, only to pause at the sight of Scott's worst puppy-eyed impression _ever, _he seriously wondered how huge his eyes could get. Stiles had become accustomed to Scott's methods of persuasion years ago, but this stare he was giving him, could _kill_. He wondered if he had gotten away with things with his mother, just by giving her this purely innocent stare.

"Ugh, alright, fine. I'm up for another few sleepless nights." Stiles chuckled humourlessly," You're a manipulative jerk, you know that?" Stiles huffed, as he started the Jeep.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Scott smirking to himself, although he wasn't doing a good job at hiding it. Stiles couldn't help but smirk back, which was then followed by a short chuckle. He didn't know where that came from, and it certainly wasn't the situation to laugh about, but it passed his lips before he could prevent it.

Scott couldn't help but falter his gaze on Stiles. He hadn't laughed in what seemed like forever and he was prepared to enjoy every second of it.

* * *

After what seemed like an hours drive, the Jeep finally escaped the Preserve and began the route to Scott's house. Stiles waved him a quick goodbye with a forced smile before driving to his house, hoping, no, _praying_, that his father wasn't awake, or waiting outside the door for him. He would be dead, otherwise. _Good luck trying to explain where you've been for hours_, Stiles thought.

He drove the jeep into the garage, and crept his way through the house, cursing profanities under his breath every time he shifted his weight onto another creaky floorboard.

When he finally reached his bedroom undetected - for now - he collapsed onto it with a graceless fall, spreading out his legs and arms, staring up at the ceiling, trying to remember the days when all the werewolf situations hadn't infiltrated his life. Life was so much simpler back then. What's worse is being involved in all this, and just being a weak, worthless, fragile human, someone who can't hold their own ground when they would have to. Really though, _what worth was he?_

Stiles avoided a self-analysis and focused on the _real_ priorities. Like all these mysterious killings and unnatural activities that are occurring; like the animal attacks. And where Derek had gone, but more importantly, _why?_ Especially when his disappearance was noticed during the time these killings were being reported. Not that Stiles suspected him; he highly doubted Derek was out on a killing spree, but he must've had some sort of involvement to drop everything and go, without anyone knowing. Derek had not long ago stated he required help with the Alpha Pack, Stiles quoted; _"With all the help I can get". _Stiles and Scott planned to help him in any way they could, but if Derek truly needed assistance, then why hasn't he had contact with them since, and now, he's disappeared?

Something was suspicious about that, this mysterious stunt Derek's pulled would not go amiss. Even though Scott was solely focused on searching for Derek, he wasn't exactly the main problem here. The killings are happening more frequently now, and they still have no promising information about what to do about it or how to prevent it, if it was even possible.

Stiles groaned loudly as he rolled onto his front and shoved his face into the pillow. Everything was so messed up at the moment he needed a clear head to think - which he planned to do tomorrow. Stiles knew Scott would be flooding with unanswered questions and concerns that had obviously been eating at him the whole night, and it was essential that he had a decent slumber before dealing with that.

Stiles had been so deprived of sleep recently that he lacked the energy to actually undress himself. _Screw it._ He'll just make sure that his dad doesn't find out in the morning.

* * *

Sheriff Stilinski frowned with displeasure and shook his head slightly as he observed his son, who was still asleep on his ruffled bed. _Damn,_ he knew teenagers were scruffy at this age, but this was another thing entirely. One side of him wanted to leave Stiles be, since he had noticed how much lack of sleep he had. It was evident and at such contrast to his usual hyper-active behaviour. However, the other side of him overpowered his sympathies and made it his duty to get Stiles to school.

"Stiles." He said sharply.

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

"Stiles" He tried again, a little more forced this time, but Stiles didn't even seem to acknowledge his presence. "_Stiles_!"

Stiles woke with a start, his entire body jerking with surprise as he frantically scanned his room for any evidence to his disturber, only to lock eyes with his dad, lurking in the doorway, wearing a face with a combination of disappointment and slight concern.

"Shouldn't you be at school right now?"

Stiles' brow furrowed with confusion as he turned to look at his clock_. Oh, great, he'd overslept. _"Oh, _crap._" Stiles groaned as he threw his head back, before hurling himself off the bed to his drawers, intending to change out of last night's clothes. It would be incredibly unhygienic if he turned up at school in the same clothes, especially the ones he had been running around in last night.

The Sheriff watched him intently as Stiles' rummaged through his drawers, trying to find something decent, that doesn't scream; _I had approximately five minutes to get ready. _Still, he could not falter his curious gaze from him, observing Stiles' shoulders tense up when he suddenly paused. "Is there something you want to tell me?" He asked carefully.

Stiles tensed again, but pulled out his favourite plaid shirt and threw it on his bed, trying to look indifferent. "No, dad. It's nothing, alright?" Stiles knew he didn't sound very convincing, but what else could he do, he'd already lied to his father's face too many times.

"Have you been…feeling alright recently?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." Stiles still had his back to him, pulling on his jeans and shoes as quick as possible. The sooner Stiles was out of the house and at school, the better.

"Stiles-"he began to protest.

"Dad! I said I'm fine…" Stiles swiftly turned to meet his gaze; a silent beg for him to stop asking questions, especially ones that were forbidden for him to answer. Stiles couldn't deny that the wave of guilt that hit him was crippling; he hadn't meant to snap at him. He just needed to conclude the discussion, and restrained himself from giving his dad an insight of his inner thoughts.

Stiles' dad averted his eyes and slowly nodded in defeat as he tried to find suitable words to form. "Alright. Just…get to school, okay?"

Stiles mumbled back, as he sighed harshly, raking his hand through his hair. _That could've gone better_, he thought. Now Stiles just needed to explain why he was incredibly late to Mr Harris' chemistry lesson. _Yeah, that'll go down well. I'll have detention either way._

* * *

Scott shifted awkwardly in his seat, twiddling his thumbs. He kept glancing in the empty seat next to him now and then, as if Stiles would just…appear the next time he looked. It wasn't like him to be late. Stiles may not be one of their favourite students, but he was very precise, organised and punctual.

"Scott?" A voice whispered behind him. He turned to meet Allison. "Where's Stiles?"

"I don't know." Scott replied, shaking his head slightly before staring out the window, looking out for any sign of Stiles. _Maybe he chose to have the day off, 'cause he made it home last night. Didn't he? Or maybe just running late? It's not like he's disappeared too, right?_

"_Mr McCall_, if you see something exceptionally intriguing outside rather than in here, perhaps you would prefer to leave. You're here to _learn_, not gawp out of windows." Mr Harris spoke assertively, hands on hips and head held high - his usual smug, arrogant and snide-self.

Some of the other students sniggered quietly amongst themselves, obviously imagining what Scott's face might've looked like. In a way, he was glad someone snapped him out of it; it would've probably been posted online or something. "Sorry" Scott mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone.

Suddenly, there were heavy footfalls coming down the corridor and approaching their classroom, as a student came tumbling through the door; items cascading out of their bag as they swiftly made their way to their seat.

"Sorry I'm late" Stiles panted, retrieving his equipment that had fallen out of his bag, before slumping into his seat, hand running down his face as he exhaled deeply. He was instantly met with a stare from Harris that confirmed that he was about to get a lecture.

"Mr Stilinski. 15 minutes late. You must have a very good excuse to get you out of detention with me afterschool. However, even if you do _actually_ have a valid reason, I still intend to keep you behind.

"Not really…" Stiles grumbled.

"_Good_. You know how much your voice triggers my violent impulses. An hour afterschool, Stilinski. Make up for lost time"

Stiles sighed, aggravated, raking a hand through his messed up hair. "_Great_."

"Dude, where have you been?" Scott asked urgently, leaning over to him.

"Look, nowhere. I just overslept, alright?" Stiles replied.

"Stiles, you look like hell-"

"Cheers, man-"

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Scott asked.

Stiles knew he probably didn't look pretty right now. He could feel how baggy his eyes were. He grimaced and clutched his head with his free hand as the dull thuds of an inevitable migraine started banging against his skull.

"Stiles, why didn't you tell us you had trouble sleeping?"

"I didn't- it's probably just too much Adderall or something-"

_"Stiles." _Scott grew slightly impatient.

"Look. I just wanna get this psychopath, okay? So forgive me if I'm a little determined." Stiles never broke eye contact with him as he spoke calmly. "So, are we meeting after school as usual, or are you suddenly getting cold feet?

* * *

Derek had been pacing for a good, solid hour, with nothing but the company of his psychotic uncle lurking in the background. Derek had reluctantly asked him to meet him. He would never invite Peter to be in his presence unless it was necessary, and right now, the topic of the Alpha pack was certainly a topic to discuss, since he still had no indication of Boyd and Erica's whereabouts.

"We still don't know what they're planning…or where they're keeping Boyd and Erica" Derek said simply, not expecting a reply from Peter at that point.

"Well, we know they're after _you_…" Peter replied, indifferent.

Derek turned and scowled at him, arms folded, shoulders tense as he inhaled and exhaled sharply.

"You think there's more than just wanting you in their pack?" Peter asked.

"There has to be. They have to be plotting something else."

Peter shifted his weight as he gave Derek a quizzical look, mouth opening and closing as he couldn't find the words he planned to say. "Well, I'd say the only person - apart from the Alphas themselves- who possibly knows their intentions, would be their emissary."

"Morrell. You plan an interrogation?"

Peter nodded. "However, I doubt we'll be able to catch her alone. She and the Alphas seem to be practically joined at the hip. Plus we don't even know where she or the Alphas are located."

"Then what?"

"Then we simply drop in on a familiar face, who should know the whereabouts of his own sister, unlike others..." Peter smirked. "We might even learn something new to use to our advantage"

"Fine. We pay a visit tomorrow at the veterinary. But I'm doing the talking." Derek said sharply as he fixed him a look, in which Peter threw his hands up in submission, lowering his head.

"Of course. You are the Alpha." Peter mocked as he walked passed an aggravated Derek, eyes still trained on him as he left.

When Peter had disappeared, Derek absentmindedly glanced up at the illuminated moon, small layers of cloud lingering around it, occasionally blocking out its silver rays reaching down to touch any obstacle it may encounter. Derek was filled with anxiety. He loathed being ignorant of certain things, he loathed how lack of information he and Peter. Not to mention how much he loathed that he had apparently become so desperate, he would call upon his arrogant uncle. It had crossed his mind to seek help elsewhere, but the number of people who could actually help him out was limited.

Deucalion was always ten steps in front of them all. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of sick intentions he had in mind; he'd accepted to expect the worst.

Derek had overheard a conversation between Scott and Stiles that there were many killings occurring recently. All bodies found in the same way. Head bashed in, strangled and throat slashed. Apparently, they had started happening when the Alpha pack had announced themselves; so Derek had a strong suspicion that they were behind this. Again, uncertainty was not good, especially on Derek.

Suddenly, it seemed like someone was approaching, and Derek cursed at himself for being so preoccupied, before disappearing into the heavy fog which had suddenly invaded Beacon Hills.

* * *

Stiles woke with a start, he bolted upright, his chest heaving as he panted frantically, his body slicking with sweat as he tried to make his lungs work again. He had another nightmare…to be honest; they weren't helping his sleeping patterns at all. Stiles couldn't exactly when he had drifted off.

Suddenly, there was a slight knock on the door.

Stiles groaned as he dragged his hand down his tired, sweaty face. "Yeah? Dad? What's up?"

His bedroom door slowly opened, and Scott peeked round the corner. Stiles turned, rubbing his eyes before blinking forcefully several times as his vision was slightly blurred. However, he did not expect Scott to be lingering in the doorway, wearing a weary smile. _Nope. Definitely wasn't expecting that._

"Hey"

"Hey man. What uh- I wasn't expecting visits at this time."

"Your dad let me in. I swear I didn't climb through any open windows." Scott smiled.

"You know that's probably for the best. You do know my dad has a shotgun, right? It'll end pretty badly." Stiles scoffed, earning him a fond smile from Scott, which faded quickly. A little too quickly for Stiles. "You okay, Scott?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I'm totally fine. I was just-I was just going to ask you the same thing." The concern was obvious in his voice.

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine man. I'm just a little thrown by all these random killings that are happening, seems the creepy and bizarre never really leave us, do they?" Stiles smirked, raising his eyebrows.

"_Stiles._ I know you're still worried about Heather disappearence, despite the fact you've never brought her up at all recently, you're not getting sleep at all - seriously dude, if there's more that's bothering you, tell me. I don't want any more secrets. You trust me don't you?" Scott's voice broke on the last few words and he refused to break eye contact with Stiles until he gave him an answer.

"Scott, of course I trust you. You're my best friend-"

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Scott, it's not like I'm hiding anything serious. Alright, yeah, I've been feeling crappy recently with all this anxiety along with an overwhelming feeling that everything is just gonna get worse. With everything that's going on currently, I wasn't exactly a priority, you know? You didn't need to start fretting over me, that's why I didn't tell you. To be honest I'm a little envious of how freakin' well you're handling this." Stiles exhaled loudly, rubbing the back of his neck as he awaited Scott's reaction.

"Stiles, you're always one of my priorities. Too many people are getting killed, you think I'm not gonna pay extra attention to my friends now. You should've told me, man. I feel like I'm making you exceed your limits all the time."

"Look, I wanna help, you know. But I seriously can't do the things you, Isaac, Allison or any of the others can do."

"We'll get through this" Scott placed a gentle hand on Stiles' shoulder as Stiles lowered his head, clearly not wanting to obtain eye contact.

The silence between them was soon broken when the Sherriff could be heard from downstairs, clearly in a rush when Stiles and Scott heard something clatter. Stiles instantaneously hurled himself off his bed and scrambled for the staircase, calling down to his father.

"Dad! Dad, what is it?" Stiles blurted out as he followed his father and watched him put on his uniform.

"Stiles, go back upstairs" the Sherriff pointed towards the staircase, and turned his back to Stiles.

"No, Dad. You got to tell what's going on"

"_Stiles_-"

"Dad!" Stiles knew he was being stubborn and he had to forcefully discard the guilt that washed over him as he snapped at his father. It was for his safety.

Sherriff Stilinski's eyes, full of concern and uncertainty, roamed Stiles' tense body. There was something else though in his father's eyes though. Like he knew he was going to say something he was going to regret, something devastating. A knowing look that Stiles loathed, because he knew that whatever his dad was hesitating to tell him, it was going to have an effect on him. It made Stiles all the more nervous.

"They found another body…with the same injuries" He said quietly and softly, eyes fixated on his son.

"Wh-what?" Stiles said weakly. "Dad, tell me it's not-" He slowly trailed off as he couldn't bear to finish his sentence. Stiles' blood suddenly turned cold as a shudder vibrated through his entire body as he continued to stare at his dad in horror.

"They've already identified the body…_I'm sorry_…"

Stiles' heart sank deep as his jaw slacked; his mouth gaping and quivering as hot tears began to build behind his lowered eyelids. Stiles' entire body was trembling violently, his legs turned to jelly as they seemed to struggle supporting him as he clenched his fist tight enough until his knuckles turned a sickly pale. It was as though time had suddenly slowed down; he had no acknowledgement of anything else surrounding him as the truth struck him like a punch in the gut. _He had just lost a childhood friend, one that he had known pretty much his entire life; one that he had freakin' bubble baths with._

Before Stiles could restrain himself, tear streaks ran down his cheeks and he raised his sleeve to wipe away the evidence as he exhaled harshly. _How many more people he cared about were gonna get killed._ Stiles suddenly felt a seething rage boil and bubble under his skin as Heather's death confirmed that whoever did this was using a pattern- A sick and twisted pattern. Seriously, he and Scott need to find this killer_. Now._

* * *

The daylight hours slowly faded into the dark hours of the night in the veterinary. Deaton had just finished with checking over appointments and finally decided to lock up, until he sensed an eerie presence nearby, and he heard the door open. Deaton slowly approached the counter to see Peter standing silently in the waiting room, hands behind his back like an innocent; wearing a small, forced smile. Deaton remained indifferent to Peter's presence.

"Clearly I need to do something about the signs outside. People can't seem to read them." He spoke with his usual, calm tone, along with his stoic demeanour.

"Is it too short notice to make an appointment?" Peter asked as he eyed behind Deaton, to where Derek had slowly emerged from the shadows.

"We're gonna talk" Derek put simply, daring Deaton to protest; his soul-piercing eyes still trained on him.

"Well that depends entirely on the subject" Deaton stated, folding his arms in the process.

"We're in need of finding that sister of yours…" Peter replied, his voice assertive as he approached Deaton, placing his arms against the counter and leaning in slightly. He was oblivious to the scowl he was receiving behind him, as if Derek was trying to burn a hole into his body.

"And you're gonna help us" Derek said stiffly; focusing his attention back to Deaton. This wasn't a question. It was a demand. Derek was not planning to leave without uncovering any information.

"What makes you think I would know of Morrell's location? I am not in league with her"

"_Look_. It's been a long day, and so far, we have no information on our side. We'd like to know who's committing these murders and _why_ …" Peter sighed exasperatedly as he clutched the counter tight enough that his veins were clearly visible.

"_Murders? _" Deaton emphasised as his brow furrowed.

"_Yes_. _Murders_. Seems the animal attacks were just the beginning. However these killings were obviously planned and there's no coincidence that they each have an identical set of injuries. And they've recently discovered another body…that already makes three."

"Are you implying that Deucalion and his pack are responsible?" Deaton asked.

"This is the work of a homicidal, mass murderer, I'd say Deucalion fits that description" Peter smirked. "Though as much as I hate to agree, it does seem a bit conspicuous, even for Deucalion."

Deaton glanced at Derek. "His intentions revolve solely around you and Scott. I doubt he would make such an effort to murder random people for no purpose. What same injuries did each of the victims have?"

Derek hesitated at first. "According to Scott and Stiles," he began, inhaling sharply, "Each had a blow to the head, a mark where they'd been strangled, before their throats were slashed."

"Fortunately, I am familiar with this type of behaviour; it resembles a ritual." Deaton silently wished he had to inform this to Scott first. "In ancient times, certain emissaries – or more commonly known as the druids- were corrupted by darkness. They believed that committing sacrifices would aid them in certain ways, such as to gain power against their enemies. It was their way of declaring war."

"Essentially, how many sacrifices?" Peter asked. Excessive- beyond the usual

"Limitless, it was until they believed they were strong enough to withstand them."

"…Seems a bit excessive…" Peter mumbled. Derek and Deaton both glared at him, as he cleared his throat. "So, it's likely an emissary is declaring war upon the Alpha pack? Morrell?" He titled his head.

"No. She wouldn't be so foolish. Any small suspicion from Deucalion; he wouldn't hesitate to remove her. And I doubt she has any real quarrel with them"

"She still might know something-" Derek spoke up, catching Deaton's attention.

"I can't guarantee that-" Deaton interrupted, raising his eyebrows.

"_So we need to find her_..." Derek said sharply, before heading out without another word, brushing past Peter as he did do.

Peter's senses confirmed that Derek was definitely agitated and tense. The stench was all over him and overpowering, as the thuds of Derek's increasing heartbeat filled his ears. Peter couldn't help but smirk. He definitely wasn't someone who tolerated being in the dark. Since he and Derek arrived, they've had nothing but uncertainty. They were just going to go with instinct, since they hadn't really uncovered the killer. It was still debatable. Peter smiled at Deaton forcefully before following Derek outside.

Deaton watched him warily as he braced his hands on the counter in front of him, all his thoughts rattling around in his mind.

Once Peter made it outside, he could faintly see Derek's figure in the fog. "What do you suggest we do?" Peter asked.

Derek's shoulders tensed as he took a sharp intake of breath. Peter recognised this behaviour on him; this meant he was reluctant to admit that he was clueless.

Derek still had his back to him, refusing to show that he was in a state of turmoil; although his too long of a silence was confirmation to Peter. "I don't know…" Derek mumbled breathlessly. He finally turned to face Peter, but he was met with empty space. _Typical,_ Derek thought. He huffed in aggravation as he shook his slightly. _Now what was he to do? Continue searching for Morrell? Should he seek help from Scott and Stiles?_

An ominous wind began to stir, as threatening clouds closed in on the dark velvety sky. Without any warning, thunder rolled and crackled like deafening wails. The dreary atmosphere quickly turned into a raging storm; the sky was ablaze with lightening, sheets of rain slicing the damp air and beating down flamboyant trees nearby, while the gusting wind howled and wailed. The winds were driving the rain faster, harder and stronger than it had ever before and Derek's sensitive ears clearly heard the rain pelting against window panes and bouncing off the roof; quickly forming puddles and streams that travelled through the streets. Derek glanced above him; the heavy ran splattering against his face as he focused his attention on the sinister moon that was hidden behind the presaging clouds that continued to close in. Anxiety began to build in Derek as he remembered that the Lunar Eclipse was near. He was running out of time; precious, valuable time that he should have spent pursuing the Alpha pack. It was beginning to feel more and more like the entire world was against him.

Derek froze when he sensed a presence behind him, watching his every move as he listened intently to their heartbeat; it was slow and steady. His claws emerged slightly, but only as a precaution, as he slowly turned to face them.

"Heard you were looking for me?" Morrell stood a few metres away, arms folded, eyes trained on him.

"You were listening" Derek accused, his jaw tightening as he glared at her suspiciously.

"Yes. I don't know what you want from me, but whatever it is, I can't help you-"

"What do you know?" He asked stiffly, ignoring her previous comment.

"I know nothing-"

"You're _lying _"

"I _don't _" Morrell spat, feeling anger rise up inside her. "I know nothing more than you do. All I know is that Deucalion wants you and Scott in his pack - he wants perfection."

Derek didn't look particularly convinced, as his entire body tensed. He had listened to her heartbeat. It was perfectly steady much to his distain, but he refused to accept that she was completely oblivious about the whole thing.

"…And he's not the one responsible for the killings"

Derek's eyes turned to serpentine slits. "You know who it is"

"No. What's happening is beyond my knowledge; Deucalion and the others were only recently made aware. Like I said, I _cannot_ help you."

"Why should I believe you?"

"What does it matter whether you believe me or not; it's the truth and your still not any closer from uncovering the real killer." Morrell shifted slightly before locking eyes with him again. "I suggest whatever it is you intend to do, you act fast, as it's likely they will strike again, and I'm not just implying the killer." She spoke assertively before walking off in the other direction.

That left Derek back to square one again. Morrell was no use at all, even though it was obvious she knew more than she was letting on. Derek growled lowly as he raked his hand through his wet hair. He knew she was right though, Deucalion and the Alpha's were not going to stay silent for much longer.

* * *

The following morning, Stiles had found himself collapsed in a heap, lying on his front, on his ruffled bed; he dragged his arm out from underneath him, to find it incredibly numb. His eyes were still sore and possibly still red.

Hearing about Heather's death yesterday; he tried so hard not to believe it, he hoped it was some sort of nightmare he was trapped in, it had sounded so absurd, however when his dad knocked gently on his door, he was sucked back into the crushing reality that it had _actually_ happened.

Sherriff Stilinski opened the door ajar and peered 'round. "Stiles? I have to go to the station-"

"Yeah, I know." Stiles interrupted weakly, burying his head in his arm again.

"You know, you don't have to go to school today if you don't want to"

"I know" Stiles mumbled.

"Alright. Then, uh- I'll see you later this evening then…" He glanced at his son with such concern, silently pleading for Stiles to look at him, however, Stiles was in deep mourn and the last thing he would want is for someone to fuss over him. His dad left the door open before walking down the stairs, heading for the station.

Stiles lifted his head slightly when he heard his dad leave. As much as Stiles wanted to be around his other friends right now, another side of him wanted to be alone. He was so torn. But what could he do to help when he was in this emotional state. Stiles winced as the crippling pain of cramp struck his legs as he shifted slightly.

There was a sudden sound of movement in the direction of his window, making Stiles' head snap up; and grimace with the slow feel of head rush. Stiles groaned, running a hand down his face, before turning as if to shut his window.

Stiles' whole body jolted, scrambling a bit on his bed as he met the intruder; he definitely wasn't expecting to see _him_ here.

"_Derek?!_ What the h- where the hell have you been? Scott and I have been on high alert for you!"

"Away."

"Well, that's not vague at all!" Stiles flailed his arms as he pouted. "Seriously, you had us close to freaking out, and I was on the verge of pulling accusations..."

"It doesn't matter where I've been-"

"Like hell it does-"

"_Stiles_. I didn't come here to explain my absence to you." Derek huffed as he remained half in his room and half hanging out of the window.

"Then why are you here?" Derek hesitated, opening and closing his mouth as he couldn't find the right words to form, before sighing harshly.

Stiles wondered why he had avoided the question; of course it was Derek's nature to keep himself to himself, but seriously, he needed to get over that, if he and Scott were to assist him in any way. It was like a chess board; Scott and Stiles weren't to be the playing pieces of the game unless they saw the whole board. Stiles remembered saying something similar like that to his father once.

Stiles studied Derek for a moment as they sat there in silence. Derek made no indication to whether he was actually planning to enter Stiles' room or even to continue their conversation. Stiles cleared his throat to break the silence.

"You know dude, you could just use the front door" Derek rolled his eyes as Stiles pointed downstairs.

"This way's quicker." Derek put simply, looking completely unapologetic as he swung his legs over the windowsill and dropped to the floor, far more gracefully than should be possible for someone with an impressive build like Derek for crying out loud.

Derek straightened, chest rising and falling steadily as he locked eyes with Stiles. Derek seemed hesitant for a moment as his curious eyes scanned every inch of Stiles' face. They faltered on his eyes. At a closer inspection, Stiles' eyes looked broken and they were still red. _Could he have been crying?_ Derek suddenly wondered what could have caused _Stiles_ of all people to break down like that. This vibe that Stiles was giving off was less than comforting.

He started to stare at him as though he was a particularly difficult puzzle that he was trying to solve. Maybe staring a little too intently, because he was caught instantly when Stiles looked up.

"What?" Stiles frowned in confusion.

"Nothing…" Derek mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact as he cleared his suddenly dry throat. "Have you found anything?"

"Huh? Found anything for _what?"_

"For who's behind the killings"

Stiles paused; scanning Derek's face for any indication of how he knew about that. He doesn't remember discussing this with him. Stiles silently wished he could hear people heartbeats like werewolves could, that way he could distinguish what was truth and what was not. They stared at each other for a few stolen seconds, almost challenging each other to talk first. Although it was obvious Derek was being particularly stubborn, Stiles knew he wouldn't explain unless he asked him. So he did.

"How'd you know about that?" Stiles asked, giving him a sceptical glare if he should miss out 'vital' bits.

"Scott talks too loud" Derek said simply.

_Heh, of course_. Derek was never very forthcoming with explanations. "You mean you used your werewolf senses to eavesdrop. _Smooth_." Stiles drawled sarcastically. "To answer your question, no, we've got nothing, which is completely _incongruous_ since they've just found another one."

"Another body?"

"Yeah, _real_ kick to the balls" Stiles groaned as he rolled over onto his back, spreading himself out, staring at the ceiling.

Derek approached him slowly, eyes scanning around his room. "Where's Scott?"

Stiles huffed out a laugh, earning him a quizzical look from Derek. As Stiles sat up, he glanced up at Derek, noticing his eyebrows furrow and a '_I don't know where the hell I am _' expression painted across his usual broody face. It humoured Stiles just for a moment, which was what he needed really.

"_Dude_. We may be on werewolf radar, but it doesn't mean we're off school." He scoffed, stretching his arms.

Derek shifted his weight, before asking Stiles something that had been eating at him a while. "Why are you _here _then?" Derek asked carefully.

_Oh My God. Is that concern I see on our Sourwolf?_ Stiles couldn't help but linger on that look, especially since it was directed at him; he was going to relish it, memorise it, before it quickly moulded into another frown. Stiles contemplated on telling Derek the truth, about his childhood friend. Although, Stiles knew Derek had other, more important priorities than to listen to this. It was a long shot whether Derek would show some compassion about another human he never met. _More like a misfire_, Stiles snorted.

"'Cause I feel like hell" Stiles grimaced, trying to sound as convincing as possible, although there was no doubt that Derek could sense that he was lying. He was sincerely surprised when Derek didn't act on it.

Derek knew he was lying. He didn't even need to listen to his heartbeat, it was written all over his face. He realised just how easily he could read Stiles now – as opposed to last year. There was something else that caught his attention, of course he wasn't open about it, but there was some sort of connection between him and Stiles. One that was undeniable and so strong that it was frightening.

"Don't worry, I'll be sure to give Scott your unspoken, irrefutable, brotherly love" Stiles drawled sarcastically cracking a grin.

Derek couldn't help but roll his eyes; it was like second nature around Stiles. He sensed that this conversation had reached its end, as he made his way back to the open window.

"I don't care if it takes us years – even though we probably don't have that long – but we're gonna find whoever doing this and kick their freakin' ass…for several hours in several different ways." Stiles murmured, barely heard by himself, however he knew it was loud enough for Derek.

Derek sighed loudly as he had a sudden feel of determination building up inside him. He stole a quick glance back at Stiles, before leaping out of the window and landing on his feet with a solid thud.

Stiles could faintly hear Derek running, the sound of his feet fading as he distanced himself further and further away from his house with each second. Stiles knew he couldn't mope around for too long. It was only a matter of time before there would be another murder.

Stiles inhaled and exhaled sharply before he hurled himself off of the bed, grabbing his red jacket and dashing out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

**Authors Note:**

**Finally. I've been wanting to post this Fanfic for ages. I know not much action occurs in this chapter, but it's sort of the build up, especially for the next chapter. **

**Whoa, I have a few followers/favourites already? Thanks so much guys. **

**Please give me your feedback, every comment is appreciated 3**


	2. 2 - Werewolf Radar

Stiles rushed out of his house and ran down several streets like a bullet out of a gun before he could even register why he had decided to pursue Derek and what he exactly intended to do. He'd just had enough of sitting on his ass, feeling sorry for himself– he was beginning to get restless. Though he knew Derek had the ability to run particularly fast, Stiles didn't stop searching. Inside, his gut was telling him to head east, since he thought he'd heard Derek run in that direction. Stiles made his way cautiously down the dimly lit street leading up to an open field with an ominous barn in the centre, sniggering at the irony; _Trust the instinct._

Derek suddenly came to a halt. He honestly had no idea what to do next, where to go, who to speak to or what to do. It frustrated him to no end. Derek had an urge back at Stiles' house to share the information he had gotten from Deaton. Stiles could've made sense of it, done some research – hell, he'd probably figure everything out by nightfall, with his unusual intellect. But there was something with the way Stiles looked then, his eyes fatigued, how he lowered his head in defeat and how he had laughed and smirked – the kinds that are used as a cover up, to prevent oneself from crying. It really had him taken aback. It was uncommon to see him like that, but he forcefully pushed it aside.

Derek glanced down the path before him, only to spot a solitary figure lurking in the darkness. He could sense their eyes upon him, analysing him, from every inch of his body. The short hairs on his neck stood up as his shoulders tensed. Derek's eyed narrowed suspiciously, as he scoffed; "If you've come back to reason, it's not gonna happen."

"You have to stop them…" A woman spoke, with a calm and yet somehow assertive tone.

Derek froze. _That wasn't Morrell_. Now that Derek thought about it, he didn't recognise her scent; it was different, not familiar, which put him more on edge. He shifted as he saw her approaching him. "Who are you?" he asked stiffly.

"You have to stop them. You _must_." She repeated, like she was a broken record or something. It seemed she wasn't up for giving him direct answers.

"Derek!" They both froze as they saw a figure approaching them. Of course, he instantly recognised who it was, but as he turned his attention back onto the woman, she was gone, like she had never been present.

"Derek?..._Derek_!" Stiles almost collided with him as he skidded to a halt, panting harshly, bending over to brace his hands against his knees, as he tried to get his breath back. "_Holy crap_….you keep fit…" he panted.

"Stiles?" Derek's eyes darted over him, searching for any indication of why he was here. Whatever it was, it had sounded urgent.

"Look, I'm sorry, I probably should've told you this earlier…but I uh- I did a little research – well no, a heck load of research – to see if there was a connection between the murders and the Alpha's, like if it was some sort of ritual or something- but get this-" Stiles trailed off as he noticed Derek was staring over his shoulder, like someone was behind him. "Are you listening to _any _of this?" Stiles asked as he cautiously turned his head behind him, but no-one was there.

"Dude? You're losing me here…"

Derek blinked several times before glancing back at Stiles again, who seemed restless all of a sudden, forcing eye contact again. "…A connection?"

Stiles hesitated before he continued, staring at him warily. "Uh- yeah, like I said, a ritual…but when I looked it up, I read some freaky culture stuff that had beings called 'druids'-

Derek's thoughts instantaneously wandered to Deaton's words before; he had mentioned the 'druids'- also known as emissaries, who were actually essential to the packs. Deaton had once implied that he was Talia's emissary.

It seemed there was definitely a link with the druids and all of this, since they were mentioned more than once now.

"- so I think that - Derek, seriously, do you mind not zoning out when I'm actually pouring vital information here" Stiles huffed.

"No, it's –" Derek paused. "The veterinarian –"

"_Deaton_?" Stiles checked around him before leaning in. "You went to Deaton?"

"Yes" Derek stated, folding his arms.

"_Why_?"

"For answers."

"Dude, always with the vagueness" Stiles stepped closer to him. "Also, I think I picked up on something. Apparently, druids that had gone dark side, were called 'Darach's, they would always swear revenge on those that-"

"Where are you going with this, Stiles?" Derek asked impatiently.

"I don't know! It's still just a theory so far. I'm just saying it sounds to me like something big is going to happen. Something's coming Derek, something bad." Stiles paused for a moment, waiting for maybe Derek's input on it.

Derek was about to speak, when he sensed a sinister presence nearby – a shiver crawling up his spine when a familiar low voice invaded his ears.

"Derek. I was hoping to find you here"

He could practically feel the smirk creeping across his lips, as he and Stiles turned their attention to Deucalion approaching them slowly. Stiles instinctively shuffled closer to Derek.

"I was thinking to myself, I had spent so much time searching for you, that I didn't stop to think that maybe you were searching for _me_…" Deucalion emphasised.

It seemed he only acknowledged Stiles' presence, when his head turned in his direction slightly. Stiles' couldn't really tell if he was on Deucalion's radar now, it was difficult to tell through his shades, but nonetheless, he had felt eyes on him, slowly taking him in.

"It's Stiles isn't it? We've never been officially introduced, but, I believe you already know who I am…"

"Yeah…" Stiles mumbled, side-eyeing Derek who was creeping his way in front of Stiles, almost protectively, but he guessed he was really challenging Deucalion, since his eyes were trained on him the entire time like he was waiting to strike.

"I was only recently informed of these…killings that are occurring and of my, _accusations_. I admit, I'm surprised that you think –"

"Does this whole monologue thing have a purpose?" Stiles sighed exasperatedly, running a sweaty hand down his face.

Deucalion paused as he turned all his attention on Stiles. He half-expected him to threaten him, but he only smirked, he looked more amused than anything else. It was kind of creepy, and he was actually thankful that Derek broke the silence.

"Why are you here?" Derek asked stiffly, watching him cautiously through hooded eyes.

"Weren't you planning to confront me, to interrogate?" Deucalion asked innocently. "I'm afraid to disappoint you, but I have no involvement in this." His grip on his support stick tightened, awaiting their reactions.

"That's all you came here for? To tell us this?" Stiles asked; his voice thick with disbelief.

"No. There was something. It seems I need a new method of persuasion for Scott…he's a bit persistent for a potential Alpha"

_Scott…an Alpha?_

"So I came in need of something…" Derek tensed and his breath hitched when he sensed someone lurking behind him. He growled instinctively when Kali emerged from the shadows, teeth bared, claws scraping the ground beneath her as she dragged her foot. "…or someone" Deucalion finished.

Realisation struck Derek in time as he saw Kali lunge for Stiles. "No!" Derek shouted as he rammed into Kali, sending them both plummeting through the wall and into the barn.

"Derek!" Stiles screamed as he turned his back on Deucalion to search for him.

* * *

It wasn't long before Stiles found the gaping hole in the not-so-stable-anymore wall, coughing and spluttering as the dust invaded his wind pipe. He saw nothing but darkness and the discarded bricks surrounding the room. Stiles entered the barn cautiously as he thought he caught sight of movement on top of the bricks. "Derek?!"

Derek struggled to straighten as he locked eyes with Stiles' wide eyes. "Stiles, run!" he ordered, but the worry was evident in his voice. Stiles was about to protest when Kali pounced on Derek from above, before hurling him into the wall again, a heavy thud of muscle against brick which left Stiles cringing. "RUN!" Derek felt anger rise up inside of him. _Stiles was supposed to be the smart one._

Before anything else could be passed between them, Stiles spotted Ennis pounding towards him, growling fiercely and Stiles swore he could feel red eyes boring into his own amber ones. "Oh, god." Stiles moaned, before bolting with Ennis close behind him.

* * *

Stiles sprinted as fast as his skinny legs could manage, to the point where he felt his legs would suddenly detach from the rest of his body, puffing and panting harshly until his chest felt sore and constricted. No matter how fast he thought he was running, Ennis was still closing in on him, every time he peeked over his shoulder, he had inched closer.

Deucalion's amused voice echoed around through the barn as he kept running.

"_Run, little rabbit. Run_" He said mockingly.

Stiles was transfixed on escaping that he hadn't even realised he had ran across the field into the sinister looking woods around the perimeter. _Great, his odds were at an all-time low_. He made sure to run into the darkest parts of the woods, in a zig-zag motion around the tall trees, hoping to catch Ennis off course, but he had a stomach-wrenching thought that he could distinguish his scent from everything else. With every step Stiles took, twigs were snapping loudly as soon as Stiles rested his body weight against them, giving away his position every time.

Although, as much as Stiles was worried about his own ass, he didn't care to admit that he was worried about Derek. It seemed Kali had the upper hand before he sprinted off.

He cursed loudly as he tripped over something, – if not a tree stump, then his clumsy feet – landing hard on his stomach with a squelch as he felt a mud patch soak through his shirt, but he had heard a shuddering _crack_. He lifted his head slightly, wincing when he felt leaves stuck to his cheek along with an obvious mud smear, as he swiftly turned over, backing behind a huge bush. Stiles ducked low, as he clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to stable his heavy breathing.

"I know where you are! Don't think I can't smell you!" Ennis snarled.

Well, of course he could. Stiles knew that. He just needed valuable seconds to come up with a diversion so he could escape, or…something.

He sunk lower into himself when he spotted Ennis approaching slowly, eyes trained in his direction. He looked savage, ready to tear his prey apart if given an opportunity, but Stiles had crept to the side of him and picked up a fairly large stone, before throwing it with all the strength he had left. Ennis' head jerked to the side in alert, eyes turning to serpentine slits.

It had worked for a few solid seconds, but Ennis sensed Stiles near him and he lashed out. Stiles avoided his sweep of his arm as he fell to the ground again, keeping himself up by his elbows.

"Argh…damn it" Stiles cursed breathlessly. It seemed he was done for, but Stiles' eyes lingered on a thick fallen branch beside him. By a sheer amount of luck on his side, Stiles rose to his feet, dodged Ennis' attack and swung it hard. Before he even acknowledged it, Ennis had stumbled slightly, clutching his head and growling in agony - he was given an opportunity to run, since he knew that injury would heal quickly.

Stiles attempted to escape the woods and go back for Derek, but to his dismay, he had collided with Kali, her grip on him tight before knocking him to the ground. Stiles howled out in pain as his forehead had bashed against something, sending a sharp pain through his head as Kali rolled him over and placed her bare foot against his chest as he struggled to break free, but she threatened to dig her claws into his skin if he continued to squirm.

Stiles' head was throbbing like hell, and his vision became a little blurred and the edges when he tilted his head to view Kali looming over him, but her attention was elsewhere now. "If you want something done right…." Kali seethed at Ennis, who was approaching them. "Come on. Help me" she instructed as they both gripped Stiles, intending to drag him back to Deucalion, but they immediately froze.

Though, Stiles couldn't focus properly, he heard snarling in the distance and could just about distinguish a figure in the haze.

* * *

Everything after that was a blur, just sounds of chaos around him – the snarls, the shouts and the growls echoing in his muffled ears.

Suddenly, he felt body weight hovering over his vulnerable form, hands slipping under his back carefully. Stiles' eyes slowly peeled open with effort, sighing with sweet relief. "Derek. You took your ti- Oh, crap. Look at you, you're-"

"It'll heal." Derek interrupted, brushing off Stiles' concern.

"Yeah, _eventually_. They're from Alpha's remember? We're screwed if they come back – wait, where-?" Stiles questioned as he winced, trying to sit up.

"They're gone. They left with Deucalion."

"Gone? They left? They don't seem like the succumbing type."

"I don't what happened, but, Deucalion withdrew them"

"Why? I thought they were after me?" Stiles' scrunched up in confusion as he studied Derek.

"They were, but –"Derek sighed exasperatedly. Obviously Derek had no clue what had happened either, but that didn't mean Stiles planned to dismiss it, especially when he thought he was going to get kidnapped, or killed, or worse…kidnapped then killed. "By the way, next time I say 'run', you _run_"

"I did run! Why do you think we're here in the woods." Stiles countered, his voice higher for some reason.

"If you hadn't of hesitated, Ennis wouldn't have caught you." Derek huffed, as he supported Stiles' back with his hand when Stiles sat up this time, obviously determined to move on his own.

"Technically it was Kali who caught me and yet, the last time I checked, she was occupied, so –"

"My point still stands"

"Whatever, man." Stiles grumbled but his grudge dissipated instantly when Derek started to reach for Stiles' arm. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think? I'm taking you home" Derek replied simply as he slung Stiles' arm around his shoulder to support him, but Stiles shrugged him off. "Stiles –"

"I can manage, Derek, quit coddling me"

"I'm not _coddling._"

Stiles almost got to his feet, when his foot decided to protest and send a sharp pain through his entire leg, resulting in him collapsing to the ground again. _Again._ He hadn't even put that much pressure on it, but the pain was crippling.

"Argh…what the hell? Oh, _great_, that's just great. Must've been when I tripped" Stiles hissed, deciding to pout about it.

"You _tripped_? Typical." Derek scoffed, before sighing. "Come on." Derek grabbed Stiles' arm again and slung it over his head so Stiles could lean on him as Derek walked. Strangely enough, Stiles obeyed without question, wincing every so often when he thought he landed awkwardly on his other foot after he hopped.

They were silent for a while, with only the ominous sounds of the woods around them and the grunts and occasional cursing passing Stiles' lips.

"This is taking too long" Derek huffed as he scooped up Stiles in his muscular arms in one swift motion, earning him a yelp of surprise from Stiles as he continued to walk across the open field. Stiles protested several times, he could feel him squirming and fidgeting, trying to catch Derek's attention.

"Derek, come on. I can at least _try_ to walk on my own. Put me down. Put me down now, please." Stiles demanded, growing more impatient as Derek ignored his comments.

"Stiles, you have concussion and your ankles broken. I'm taking you to the hospital."

"_Huh?!_ What happened to dropping me off at my house?"

"That was before I knew about your ankle."

"Look, I know Scott's mom isn't off-work yet but, it's just a stupid ankle sprain, it's not like I'm missing a limb - which I almost did by the way – I can at least worry about it in the morning that is if my dad doesn't kill me himself – "Stiles rambled.

* * *

It had taken possibly an hour or two, but they finally made it back onto the streets, Stiles' so still in Derek's arms, he'd probably fallen asleep. Derek frowned and rolled his eyes as Stiles began to snore loudly. Yeah, he'd probably be able to let Stiles get back on his feet now, his decision to carry him was only really temporary because they were still in the woods, but it seemed Derek didn't even notice.

Derek huffed as he called Stiles several times, but he didn't respond, didn't even acknowledge him. If Stiles' ankle wasn't broken, he would've just dropped him by now. "Hey!"

Stiles woke with a start as he thrashed about in Derek's hold, almost kicking and slapping him straight in the face. "What the hell?! That is _not_ how you wake someone, Derek!" Stiles pouted.

"Shut up. We're almost there. Come on." Derek stated as he gestured Stiles to wrap an arm around his shoulders after he gently let his legs drop to the ground, making sure Stiles' bad foot hovered over the ground.

"Uh, alright. But seriously, I'm hopping from here to the hospital? Jeez." Stiles grumbled as he began to hop, wincing every so often when he felt himself tilt his ankle by accident. "I should call Scott…" Stiles said softly as he pulled his phone out of his damp pocket, finding it covered in mud. "Ugh, _nice_." He rubbed it off on his trousers before typing in the appropriate numbers.

"_Stiles?!_ Where the hell are you?! Your dad's been freaking out" Scott panicked, making Stiles cringe and squint his eyes shut.

"I'm…I'm on my way to the hospital" Stiles replied carefully.

"The hospital? What's going on? Are you ok?" Scott was bursting out questions, and Stiles sighed, annoyed at himself that maybe; he should've waited for another time to confer with Derek.

"I'm fine…well, I'm not fine, but I'll live. Your mom's still working right?"

"Yeah, she should still be there."

"Good."

"I'm coming to meet you…"

"No, Scott, you don't have to – "

"_I'm coming_. I'll see you there."

And with that, Scott hung up. Stiles sighed harshly as he slipped it back into his pocket with a click of his tongue. "Well, I guess there's no arguing with that"

There wasn't a doubt in Stiles' mind that he would get grounded as soon as his dad laid eyes on him.

* * *

Derek forced the doors open with a slam of his body, almost losing both their balances, and just like Scott had said on the phone; he was perching in a chair in the corridor with his head in his hands, tapping his knee repeatedly, until he heard movement beside him, his head snapping up instantly. "What happened?" he asked, reaching for Stiles, slowly dragging him off of Derek and onto him, wrapping Stiles' arm around his shoulder.

"Long story, I'll explain later" Stiles rasped as he nodded frantically before gasping in pain.

"_Mom_! Mom" Scott called and Melissa rushed out of the office and froze when she noticed Stiles and Scott, barely acknowledging Derek lingering in the background. Her face read pure shock and horror as she scanned them both for any indications of fatal injury, but besides the sickly bruise and cut spreading across Stiles' forehead, she saw none. "Scott, what are you guys doing here? Oh, my God, What's wrong with Stiles?!"

"I – I think-"

"I'm pretty sure my ankle's broken. And this –" Stiles pointed to his bruise on his forehead, "This is just for display…" he said sarcastically, as he forced a quick smirk, before wincing again, scrunching up his face and gritting his teeth when another wave of pain shot through his head, like someone was bashing it with a blunt object. Stiles' vision was blurred again, and he felt all his strength leave him as he collapsed, arm slipping from Scott's grasp.

It was a good thing Scott had improved reflexes. He had caught him before he had collided with the hard floor, tugging and pulling him back to his feet, but Stiles' was out.

"Oh, god. Come on, there's a room available" Melissa spoke calmly as she directed them to a separate room, glancing back at them to make sure they were following her. They passed several onlookers and avoided eye contact with any doctors before they burst into the room, the lights that turned on automatically flickering as they gently placed Stiles onto the bed.

Scott's concerned eyes never left Stiles as Melissa had assured that she would find a doctor. He didn't even notice her leave, until he glanced up at the open doorway, surprised to find Derek standing there. From the expression on his face, it seemed like he was in conflict. Like he didn't know whether to leave or stay. "Derek, what the hell happened? I thought Stiles hadn't left his house" Scott had somehow turned to whispering now.

"He came to meet me…and – "Derek paused, inhaling sharply before speaking again, a sudden feeling of resentment to Deucalion and his pack engulfing him as he remembered the incident. "We were ambushed."

"By _who?_"

"Deucalion." Derek watched Scott's reaction, hearing the hitch in his throat followed by his sudden increase of heartbeat. Scott clearly wanted him to elaborate. "He sent Ennis and Kali after him." Derek approached slowly, before turning his back to Stiles slightly; he had just somehow been affected, seeing him like that. "I couldn't hold them off…"

"It wasn't your fault. You were outnumbered."

Derek didn't respond - he didn't need to. He knew there was truth behind Scott's comforting words, but it just didn't seem to sink in, he couldn't accept them.

Scott noticed how tense Derek became as he continued

"_Derek_. You did what you could. I mean look, he's alive isn't he?" Scott gestured towards Stiles and Derek made a huge mistake at stealing a glance at him.

"_Barely_." Derek spat as he quickly exited the room. He thought he heard Scott shout after him, but he needed to get out of there. Derek was so lost in thought, that he hadn't realised he collided with someone – someone obviously in a hurry.

Sheriff Stilinski quickly recovered from the collision as he darted down the corridor, eyes frantically searching for his son.

* * *

The Sheriff spotted Scott sitting next to the bedside. "Scott. Thank god. How the hell did this happen? Last time I saw him, he was in his bedroom. He could barely move an inch from his bed, let alone outside."

"Uh…" Scott shrugged, searching for a valid reason, one that his father would believe. "He must've gone for a walk something"

"At this late hour?"

Scott shrugged again. All he knew was that he and Derek had met up somewhere and that's when it happened, of course, he didn't know why…_yet_. Scott knew it wouldn't bode well if the Sheriff had discovered that Stiles and _Derek Hale_ had bumped into each other and then were attacked. "He must like twilight walks."

The Sherriff exhaled sharply as he rubbed a hand against his tired eyes. "Clumsy kid." He grumbled. "Scott, you don't to have to stay here – "

"No, I know. But I want to. He's gonna come around soon."

"Hmm. Thanks, Scott. I uh, I appreciate that." He smiled a second before it quickly dissipated. "I'm going to, go find Melissa, I'll be back though."

Scott nodded in response as he turned his attention back to Stiles. His eyes couldn't help but linger on the fleshy wound on Stiles' forehead. The cut was thick, but it didn't look too deep, fortunately. It could've been worse, it could've been much worse. Scott was thankful that Derek was there to protect him, no matter how much Derek dismissed that.

Though he wondered what the Alpha pack wanted with Stiles of all people, _why were they so determined to capture him, or kill him?_

Scott heard quiet murmurs next to him and he turned to see Stiles stirring. His eyes slowly peeled open and he forcefully blinked several times when he locked eyes with Scott. "This better not be one of my dreams"

Scott snorted, before looking intrigued. "Why?"

"'Cause I had a dream like this recently, and how it ended was more or less disturbing"

Scott's brow furrowed, but he refused to press the subject further, it kind of made him uncomfortable, since Stiles had once given him too much detail of a dream he had one night. It was traumatizing.

"No, this isn't a dream, Stiles. You're at the hospital."

"Yeah I figured, although, I was kind of expecting to wake up wearing one of those freaky hospital gown things."

Scott smiled fondly, watching Stiles smile back as he tried to sit up.

Stiles clutched at his head instantly as he felt an overwhelming rush of pain strike his head. He groaned loudly as he decided to lie back again, sighing sharply and huffing out a laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Remember when I said I was 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones, and that sarcasm was my only line of defence? I think the irony has just kicked me in the balls."

"Stiles, it's not like you could fight them off."

"I sort of did and look what happened." Stiles sighed again. "Wait, where's Derek?"

Scott hesitated for a second. "He left."

"Wha-Just like that?" Stiles shouldn't be surprised that Derek had just decided to leave, he had done all he could do, but still, he had wanted to at least thank him first. "But his wounds have healed right?"

"Not completely, they were still fading but no-one noticed. You had the worst injuries." Scott noticed Stiles' gaze had dropped, transfixed on something or just deep in thought. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Just. Some parts are just a blur, but, I remember talking to Derek, then Deucalion shows up, sets his bitch on me, and then Ennis. Then, I remember running into the woods, trying to outrun Ennis, heh,…then Kali showed up again and then - nothing. Though, I think I remember Deucalion said something about _persuading_ you…"

"Of what?"

"I don't know, Scott! Joining his pack, maybe? Oh – Wait- That would actually make a lot of sense"

"Wait, you're saying he went after you to get to _me_?" Scott suddenly felt an uncontrollable rage build up inside of him. He wanted to lash out at something, preferably Deucalion, but Deaton had always warned him to never confront him, as he would be playing Deucalion's game, ready to twist and turn things against him and what were their odds really?

"Dude, we've got to find him."

"Stiles, we can't. We don't know what'll happen; it could be just what he'd want."

"Pfft. Then what's the other option?"

"I don't know. We'll just…lie low, like you suggested."

"You're seriously gonna follow my advice?"

"Yeah." Scott raised an incredulous eyebrow, already fighting back a smirk.

"Oh, look who's finally coming around."

"Shut up" Scott smiled, before the Sherriff, Melissa and a Doctor entered the room, all eyes focused on Stiles.

_Great… _Stiles was in store for a lecture from his father, a load of coddling from Scott's mom and the other staff members and a hell load of antibiotics and other drugs. His dad had asked him what the hell he was thinking, about taking a night stroll out in this weather, to which he'd glanced at Scott in turmoil and confusion, which Scott only responded to by shrugging.

"You don't do that to me again, you hear me?" His dad pointed a trembling finger towards him, but Stiles knew he meant well.

"Yeah, I hear you." Stiles breathed and the wave of guilt that hit him was crippling.

The Sherriff carefully embraced his son, rested his chin on his shoulder as he gently patted him on the back, sighing with relief. He received a call from the station that they needed him down there immediately and refused at first, wanting to stay with him, but Stiles insisted. He felt safer if he had Scott there watching over him, rather than his dad. Stiles feared the idea of his dad being here _if_ and _when_ the Alphas show up again. They wouldn't hesitate to kill him, and he couldn't risk that.

Stiles had asked the Doctor that kept disappearing and reappearing, whether it was possible to have a shower, since all he could smell was the stench of mud and dried blood all over him – god knows how much Scott could smell. It was awkward when Scott had to assist him into the cubicle and he had ordered him to leave when he started stripping off. Stiles knew when Scott returned, he would be holding one of those special hospital gowns that he always hoped he wouldn't have to wear, but obviously today wasn't his day, if his injuries were anything to go by. There was also the hospital food to look forward to. _Perfect._

With his condition, Stiles assumed he would have to rely on Scott or someone else for physical support for a while now. Sometimes he really envied Scott's ability to heal quickly.

It annoyed him the most that he had put so much effort into avoid becoming a burden to anyone, and yet, now, he had done exactly that. He could still give Scott advice and guidance and occasionally discuss tactics, but other than that, there was nothing he could do, but lie in a hospital bed and ask for assistance every time he needed to go to the bathroom.

"Hey, Scott."

"Yeah?"

"You don't…think they'll track us here do you? I mean if they come in here, the chances of me defending myself are pretty low, man."

"I hope not. And if they do…they're gonna regret hurting you."

"…We're so screwed then" Stiles grinned, receiving a firm shove at his shoulder from Scott, but they were both laughing, which lightened the moment slightly, but at the back of Stiles' mind, he still wondered about Derek…

Scott had looked at him then, as though he was able to read his mind, wearing a concerned and slightly pained expression. Like he knew something Stiles didn't…

* * *

Derek had finally arrived back at the loft, lingering outside the door, glaring at it. He had probably been stood there for a while now, he wouldn't know since there wasn't any way to decipher the time around him. He had just left that hospital without looking back and with _no intention_ of looking back. Stiles had barely survived the attack – he had just managed to get there in time…he was sure if he hadn't then…

Derek shook his head as he growled lowly, scowling at nothing, but eyes trained on the ground. Stiles seemed to be so close to figuring something out, maybe something Deaton or anyone else didn't know about, some vital information, but they had been ambushed before anything could be exchanged.

Derek refused to go inside, he was certain he would lash out at something if he thought about it for a split second, so he turned on his feet and began to make his way back to Deaton. Derek needed _all _the answers now, he was desperate for them, and he would _persuade_ Deaton to tell him if he had to, but someone called out to him in the distance.

"This is all the convincing you need isn't it?"

It was her again. He was not in the mood right now. "What do you want from me?" Derek seethed.

"_Derek_. I want you to stop the Alpha pack, destroy any chance Deucalion has at perfecting his plan - the repercussions are far more severe than you can imagine."

_What? _Derek frowned at her, completely puzzled. He wasn't following her at all and _how did she know his name? _

"That kid. _Stiles_. He was just the start, a warning, to how much blood will be on your hands if you don't finish the task that is set to you."

"What task?" Derek inhaled sharply as she didn't answer; about to repeat himself but she stopped him.

"You have to find out who's committing these killings; they're playing right into Deucalion's hands. He's plotting something, something oppressive –"

"But you know it's not the Alpha's that are doing this?"

"I don't know for certain, but I know enough."

"And what exactly _do_ you know?"

"_I know my motives. _I know the priorities here; you're fretting too much over one kid when millions of lives are at stake"

_Millions?!_ _What the hell was Deucalion planning?_ Derek thought. Deaton had sounded so certain that Deucalion's motives lied with him and Scott, so how were millions of other people involved with this whole scheme. He was suddenly getting an insight of the bigger picture, and it seemed worse than he ever thought.

"Look, if you're saying there's a way to stop him; _tell me_." Derek emphasised, growing impatient, as he cautiously moving closer to her.

She scanned his face, before sighing deeply. "You have to find that out for yourself –"

"Why are you here then?! If you don't know anything that can help me, why are you wasting my time with this?! –"

"I know what the future awaits, if you should fail!" She shouted.

Derek's eyes narrowed again. "_What?" _he almost whispered in disbelief.

"I can show you…but you must gather all the information you need, _every detail _is important here_, _do you understand me? If you do this, you can save everyone – your family, your friends…"

Derek was speechless for a moment that he couldn't respond, but only watch her approach him again, warily, clutching something tight in her hand. His instincts told him to swipe her hand away and refuse her, but something was holding him back, so he stayed there on the spot as she lifted her hand to her lips, opening it up, revealing a large pile of black dust.

Derek felt the familiar scene in front of him as he planned to speak again, but she gently blew the essence into his face, a strong scent of lavender and oak invading his nostrils. He suddenly felt dizzy, fatigued and queasy all at once and that was not a good combination. Evidently, his body had given up on supporting him as he felt his legs cave in, sending him to the floor as his vision faded to black.

* * *

Derek woke with a loud rasp; it had felt like he couldn't breathe as his head still felt like it was spinning, but the world around him wasn't. He found himself lying on his back, something digging into his spine as he shifted slightly, looking up at a black velvety sky as soon as his eyes opened forcefully- the overwhelming stench of dampness around him, as he rose to his feet, falling occasionally as his shoes struggled to find friction on the slippery ground – he still felt dizzy.

Derek stood motionless for moment as he took in his surroundings, realising he found himself in the Preserve. He sighed harshly, as he shook his head, but his attention was on a new scent that had overpowered the rest of his senses as he froze, immobilised with something close to fear. The smell was everywhere; the sickly stench of blood suffocating him, as his eyes darted frantically around him, but there was nothing in sight.

Suddenly, Derek heard screeching and wailing echoing in the distance, so he went to investigate. The sounds lead him to the edge of the Preserve, where there was a lookout to the whole of Beacon Hills. But the sight struck him down to the core and he tensed when the smell had become stronger than before.

The whole area seemed abandoned, and it had honestly looked like a bomb had struck there, cars on the side, upside down, doors left open, others barricaded and others completely off of their hinges, there wasn't the slightest hint of light, bins and dumpsters were torn open, the rubbish cascaded onto the streets, some buildings that looked like at some point they had caught fire, and windows smashed and shattered, but Derek's eyes lingered on the number of mangled bodies that were lining the streets.

It was unthinkable, like something straight out of a typical horror movie, but, he was _living_ it. He noticed several other people roaming the streets too, but something was off about them.

He focused on one on the green, how it looked like it was searching for something, it's back hunched and arms hanging either side of his body. Then, it had obviously seen something, as it started to thrash about in its direction, which had then followed by a blood curdling scream. It was faint, but Derek could hear the sickly sound of tearing flesh and he cringed as the screaming suddenly stopped, but the sound did not.

"Oh, _god._" Derek said breathlessly. _What the hell was going on?_ His world had suddenly changed around him; it had gone to hell. He puzzled and puzzled until he remembered her words. Did that mean that_ this_ was the future?

Derek was snapped out his thoughts when he heard fierce snarling and garbling dangerously close to him; it sounded like there was more than one, three or four at max. He instantly turned when he spotted one approaching him, teeth bared and eyes a hypnotic gold – _Wait, canines? Yellow eyes? These things are werewolves?_ – He was about to make the first fatal move, when another snuck up behind him, slashing their claws against his back, leaving several gashes there and making Derek hiss in pain. However, that wasn't enough to break him, as he swiftly turned to slash its throat with one sweep of his claws. It collapsed to the ground instantly as the others made to attack him again.

The ambush was taken deeper into the woods, though he purposely lured them away; until nothing but trees and darkness surrounded them, closing them in. Derek had taken a few bad hits, his flesh wounds dripping crimson, as he brought another one down, leaving just two of them left; circling him.

Through the silhouettes of the trees, blinding lights illuminated the woods and approached them _fast_. Derek realised they were headlights as the other creatures instinctively raced towards it, leaping over Derek as he tried to push himself off of his knees. They both roared and snarled before they were effortlessly knocked to the ground by the hood, with a thud as the vehicle suddenly stopped; its engine still whirring and the headlights still beaming; to the point where Derek had cover his sensitive eyes to view the shadows of people emerging from the vehicle…..


End file.
